


How They Met

by methamphetamine



Series: Mojave? Mo Problems. [1]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Awkwardness, F/F, Fluff, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-22 14:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8289956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methamphetamine/pseuds/methamphetamine
Summary: How Betsy met Six.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided to turn this into a series woah. Hope you enjoy!!

When Betsy had been placed at Camp McCarren she hadn't expected to meet her future wife.

What she _had_ expected, however, was more misery. After what happened with Cook-Cook she was a mess. Hitting on anything that remotely looked female and looking for some fucking reason as to why this happened at the bottom of a shitty bottle of moonshine.

That all changed when a stranger walked into the camp, strolling in with a spring in her step and a smile on her lips, seemingly unburdened. She had bright fucking magenta hair and perfect white teeth, not that Betsy was looking at all. 

Betsy heard the stranger asking her commanding officer about mercenary work, asking about Cook-Cook. This had made Betsy pay attention, eavesdrop a little more on the pretty magenta-haired stranger.

When their conversation was over, price negotiated and target confirmed, Betsy approached the pale stranger.

"Hey, heard you talking about Cook-Cook, mind if I tag along?" She asked, trying not to sway on her feet too much. The stranger looked her up and down, taking in her greasy hair and unwashed face before smiling.

"Sure, just not when you're so drunk!" She laughed. Betsy nodded, too drunk to disagree.

"I'll meet you-" She hiccupped. "Meet you at-" Another hiccup. "At the front gate, 2pm don't be late." She said, trying not to slur her words too much. The stranger smiled and nodded before walking away.

\---

It was 2pm and the stranger was standing by the gates. Betsy dragged her feet a little, still slightly hung-over.

"Hey." She said, giving a lame little wave.

"Hi, I never got your name, y'know." Said the pretty stranger.

"I'm Betsy, you?"

"Six."

"Ain't that a number?"

"Yeah, and it's my name."

"Shit, ok."

\---

"So, do all snipers wear glasses?" Asked Six, peering down the sights of her hefty plasma rifle. Betsy laughed, caught off guard by the question.

"Only the good ones." She said, looking through the scope of her own rifle. Her gun was a glorious thing, modified silencer and a magnificent scope. Betsy had even carved her name into it one drunken night, scratched into the metal of the barrel with a flimsy pocket knife.

Through the scope of her gun she could see fiends scattered loosely around a campfire, a herd of brahmin chained to the concrete walls of the almost-destroyed building that the fiends were currently squatting in and, of course, Cook-Cook waving his arms manically around the campfire. Her grip tightened on her rifle, wanting to kill the bastard right then and there. She held herself back, however. Headshotting that son of a bitch wouldn't do Six any favours as she had to have the bastard's head back intact to collect the full bounty.

"I'm gonna shoot for the legs." Betsy said, gritting her teeth. She saw Six nod out of the corner of her eyes and looked down the scope of her gun once more.

Three shots cracked through the air in rapid succession, hitting both of Cook-Cook's legs and his neck, most likely severing more than a few tendons. Betsy barely had time to grin with morbid satisfaction before she heard Six yell.

"FUCKING FIENDS!" She screeched before said fiends were upon them.

\---

"Well damn." Betsy found herself saying.

They were both surrounded by piles of plasma goo that had once been fiends. Six had done most of the work as Betsy was pretty much useless with the flimsy nine millimetre Six had chucked at her.

Six laughed and shook her head, jogging over to where Cook-Cook's decapitated head lay. She picked it up and put it in her bag before turning to Betsy.

"So..." She said, clearly not knowing what to say. Betsy took advantage of her hesitance.

"We should do this again sometime." She said, thanking whatever gods were listening that she didn't stutter. 

Six laughed, pushing her bright hair behind her ears. "Sure." She said.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know shit about guns so forgive any inaccuracies, comments etc are always appreciated!


End file.
